


“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: A Potter!lolly Science [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aerial Foreplay, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Mary Ships It, Protective Sherlock, Quidditch, Sherlock is smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Sherlock and Mary overhear Molly breaking up with her boyfriend.





	“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> for anon over on tumblr who asked for this from a list of prompts :)

There was only one thing Sherlock Holmes loved more than playing Quidditch in the pouring rain. He enjoyed the challenge the poor visibility provided (it wasn’t as though he was getting it from his opposition!) That, and the general unpleasant weather meant the other team allowed their standards to slip. The only drawback was, so did his team. It was the first game of the season and Ravenclaw’s team captain, Mary Morstan, was keen for an early lead.

Sherlock came to a halt high above the game, sweeping his sodden hair away from his face to observe his teammates; they looked miserable, fighting the elements against a surprisingly in-form Hufflepuff team. He smirked, knowing full well this was down to the ingenious tactics of their only female team member, Molly Hooper. He quickly scanned the players, searching for the yellow and black clad Chaser; it didn’t take him long to spot her, speeding towards the Ravenclaw goalposts with the Quaffle tucked tightly under one arm.

She was that secretive ‘one thing’. Molly Hooper, the most beautiful, sweet, delicate thing he’d ever had the pleasure to meet with a smile he was sure would knock him off his broom were he subjected to it right now. Sure enough, after hurling the Quaffle through one of the Ravenclaw hoops and high-fiving her teammates, she turned her dazzling smile on him, waving smugly in his direction. He knew Mary was watching him, probably with an infuriating smile on her face; blinking the rain from his eyes, Sherlock sped away in search of the Snitch.

An hour later, the Snitch had found itself in the firm grasp of the Ravenclaw Seeker much to the relief of his teammates, one of them going so far as to hug him in gratitude. The two teams filed quickly into the changing rooms, chatting enigmatically about the match. One by one they left for the common rooms until it was just Sherlock left. Good. He didn’t like conversation at the best of times. He ruffled his hair into place, the drying strands beginning to form the usual curls, and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder before leaving the changing room; he found Mary Morstan waiting for him outside, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, lover boy.”

“Stop it,” he called over the rain, the two beginning a quick stride towards the main castle, “I told you Matthews is a rubbish Keeper.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she wouldn’t have scored if you let the beaters do their job,” Mary replied, smirking at him; he wished she couldn’t read him as well as she did. He simply shrugged.

“Plenty of other players for them to aim for.” He wasn’t sure why she found that funny.

The rain began to pick up as they continued to walk, until they were all but running towards the cloisters. The dripping wet Ravenclaws walked through the stony entranceway, chatting about Mary’s latest strategy, something she called the ‘Non-Lethal Hooper Extraction Tactic’. Sherlock was onboard until he discovered he was supposed to snog her into distraction. Another thing his Captain found hilarious despite his protests she’d misinterpreted his feelings for the Hufflepuff. They were walking for a short while when they happened upon Molly Hooper engaged in a fierce argument with her boyfriend, Tom, the most useless thing in the entire school. Before they could be spotted, Mary pulled Sherlock around the corner within earshot of the rowing couple.

“…why didn’t you come today?”

“I told you!” Tom’s stupid whiny voice echoed down the hall, a desperate edge to his tone, “I had things to do. Surely you understand.”

“Well, why did Janine-“

“For God’s sake, Molly. It was just a few drinks,” he had the audacity to laugh at her, then. Sherlock chanced a glance around the corner; Molly was still wearing her Quidditch gear, squaring up to her scruffy looking soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. She was so cute, what did she see in him? The idiot smiled, “come on. We both know you’re being irrational. C’mere.”

Outraged, Molly recoiled from his outstretched arms, “you can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”

“Molly-“

“Just leave, Tom. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Sherlock felt a sharp elbow in his ribs as the idiot sniffed and stormed off, kicking suits of armour on his way; he ducked back into cover, glaring at Mary.

“What?”

“Now’s your chance,” Mary whispered, barely containing her excitement as she gestured, “tell her you love her!”

Sherlock hoped he looked at least a little convincing when he replied, “no, I don’t.”

“Oh, please,” Mary said, rolling her eyes, “I saw your…aerial foreplay,” she smirked at the blush spreading across his face, adding, “it’s okay. She likes you, too.”

He allowed himself a quick smile before he schooled his expression and shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. She deserves better.”

Mary sighed, seizing Sherlock by the lapels of his robe and shoving him out of their shared cover. Molly looked up from her perch on one of the benches, smiling at the handsome Ravenclaw student…who at this moment looked very much like a deer in headlights.

“Hi, Sherlock. What’re you doing here?”

“I…” he trailed off, fiddling with straps on his bag, “went for a walk.”

Molly blinked, “in the rain?”

He nodded, avoiding looking at her; it was pathetic, he almost always managed to make a fool of himself in her company. Molly patted the bench and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sherlock sat beside her, praying to a deity he didn’t believe in that Mary had left him to it. They sat in silence for several moments, listening to the rain beat down against the roof.

Sherlock cleared his throat, wringing his hands in his lap, “I-I have to tell you something.”

“Is this about the Beater thing? Because I promise not to tell anyone.”

“The…Beater thing?”

“Why none of them aim for me. Ever. On any team.”

His face drained of colour. His brain could come up with nothing better to respond with than, “oh…that.”

Molly giggled, slipping her small, soft hand into his much larger one, “maybe I had more than one reason to end it with Tom,” she murmured softly, her head falling comfortably onto his shoulder. A ridiculously stupid grin swept across Sherlock’s face as he pressed his lips into Molly’s damp hair.

Mary slipped silently behind the wall, making her way towards the door at the end of the corridor; she couldn’t wait to see her boyfriend, John, in the morning. They had a bet to settle.


End file.
